Love Bites by Lynsay Sands Page B

that it had ended so abruptly—and without satisfaction.
    â€œThe last thing I remember…” she repeated, pushing other thoughts aside. “I was at work for the first time after being sick for a week.”
    â€œUh-huh.” Marguerite nodded encouragingly.
    â€œTony was off, and Beth was late.” She glanced up and added, “Car trouble.”
    Marguerite made a murmur of possible sympathy for the unknown Beth and her car.
    â€œFred and Dale, a couple of EMTs, brought in a crispy critter.”
    â€œA crispy critter?”
    Rachel glanced at the man seated across from her. He, like the man from earlier, looked a lot like a brunette Etienne, but a little grumpier. And he had a pad he seemed to be making notes on. She stared curiously at the notebook on his knee and answered, “Burn victim.”
    â€œYou call them crispy critters?” Bastien, the first brunette, asked in distress.
    Rachel heaved an inward sigh. It was difficult to explain such seeming coldheartedness to people not in the industry, but she gave it a try.
    â€œDeath can be pretty grim. Sometimes we use such terms to…well, basically, to distance ourselves from the tragedy. And every case is a tragedy, whether burn victim or heart attack. Every individual is loved by someone and will be grieved over. We’re aware of that, but we have to push it to the back of our minds or we simply couldn’t do our jobs.” She could tell by the expressions of those around her that they didn’t really understand. She supposed no one really could. Her job was difficult work, both technically and emotionally. She and her co-workers did their best to respect the dead, but some of their coping mechanisms…
    â€œSo this Fred and Dale brought in a burn victim,” the young blond woman prompted.
    â€œYes.” Rachel glanced curiously from her to the woman who’d collected her clothes. The two could have been twins but for the difference in their hair colors. Then Rachel’s gaze slid to Etienne again, and confusion filled her. “Yes, a car explosion victim. Fred and Dale left, and I started to process the burn victim and noticed that the burnt skin seemed to be coming away as if it wasn’t burnt skin at all but something blown onto him by the explosion. Then I thought I saw his chest move. So I tried to take a pulse, but as I did…” She hesitated. This was where things got murky. Not because she couldn’t recall—Rachel would never forget that ax entering her body—but because there was no wound now and nothing made sense.
    â€œBut as you did…” the man with the pad prompted.
    â€œThe door to the morgue slammed open.” She forced herself to continue. “A man was there, dressed in khakis and a trench coat. He whipped the trench coat open and had a rifle hanging on a strap from one shoulder and an ax from the other. He yelled at me.” Her gaze flicked with uncertainty to Etienne again, then away.
    â€œHe yelled to get back, that the burn victim was a vampire. Then he rushed forward, raising the ax as he came. I realized he meant to cut off my burn victim’shead, but I couldn’t let him. I wasn’t sure the man was really dead. I moved between them, hoping to stop him, but he was already committed. He couldn’t stop, and the ax…” Her voice trailed off, and she reached absently to rub below her collarbone.
    Silence reigned for a moment, then Rachel cleared her throat and finished, “He was horrified by what he did. He tried to help me, but I was in shock and scared, then I think someone started to come into the morgue. He spooked, told me help would soon arrive, told me to stay alive, then turned and fled.”
    â€œBastard,” Etienne breathed. He turned to the others. “I definitely say we call the police and claim he kidnapped her. Let them lock him away.”
    â€œBut he didn’t kidnap me,” Rachel